Angels Can't Dance
by dreamlitnight
Summary: My E/O Birthday Drabble Challenge: Word- HOLD The Expanded Version. What happens when an irritated, injured Dean has to take care of a concussed Sam and a drunken angel? Lots and lots of angst and a dollop of schmoop.


**_E/O Drabble Birthday Challenge, Word- HOLD_**

**_Disclaimer: Winchesters, no-ot mine._**

**_A/N #1: Happy, Happy, Happy Birthday to IheartSam7, The Tribble Master and SidJack._**

**_A/N #2: Okay, when you said we could write a very short story with all the elements that the Birthday Girls enjoyed, you probably meant very short. This is a tad on the long side. So, I pulled out three drabbles from this and turned this into a one shot. It was written for three Birthdays, maybe that will excuse my inability to trim the excess. Hope you enjoy my little scene. _**

Dean limped out of the bathroom, dragging his injured leg in a sort of hop, step rhythm. He carried a trashcan and towels toward his drooping brother sprawled on the nearest bed. Setting the trashcan near the head of the bed, he spoke quietly. "Hey Sammy. You still awake? I got you some ice for your cracked head." Easing down beside him, he wrapped one of the towels around some of the ice from the ice bucket, he had filled earlier.

Sam mumbled, what Dean hoped was a, "Yes, I'm still awake", but sounded more like; "Ess hmmm, uh, cake." Dean shook his head and pressed the towel of ice gently to Sam's bruised forehead and took one of his hands and pressed it to the towel. "Now **hold** that in place. Okay?"

This time he received a grunt in answer, but his brother's hand kept the ice in place. He picked up a bottle of pain reliever, dry swallowed four and then demanded that Sam open his mouth so he could give him two of them. "Here's some water." He helped him take a few sips from the cold bottle, taking some himself before recapping it and setting it back on the nightstand between the two beds. He studied his brother's pale face. "He got you good, didn't he Sammy?" He cupped his jaw. "Open your eyes little brother."

Sam complied. owlishly blinking up at him. "Hey Dee. Muh head hur's."

Dean smiled softly. "Hey Sammy. I bet it does. You've got a concussion, so not much sleep for us tonight."

"Don think, uh have ah 'cussion." Sam asked slowly.

" 'Fraid you do." Dean answered with a snort.

"Yer leg hur?" Sam asked in concern, trying to focus on his brother.

"Yeah. Gotta patch it up. You rest. I'll wake you up in a little while." Dean levered himself upright and then took a stumbling step to the other bed.

With a weary sigh, he stretched out, placing the other towel under his bloody leg. It was a relief to be off his feet. Sitting up, he studied his blood soaked jeans. He was going to have to attend to this and get the bleeding stopped he decided, pulling the first aid kit closer. After he had cut his jeans, to get them out of the way, he examined the profusely leaking gash. It ran from the inside of his thigh, just above his knee down to his calf, just below his knee. It was about eight inches long and would have to be stitched. By him. _Lucky me_. He thought, already dreading the prospect of sewing his own skin. With a pad of gauze and some peroxide, he began cleaning it, hissing as it stung and bubbled.

"Uh'll pash ya up Dee." Sam slurred. Dean glanced over to see two hazel slits, staring blearily his way.

"Nah, that's okay little brother. You still have a concussion." Dean returned with pursed lips.

"Don think, uh have ah 'cussion. Can stish you with muh eyes closed." Sam replied confidently.

With a chuckle Dean answered. "The way your eyes seem to be focusing right now, you'd probably do a better job with your eyes closed instead of open, that's for sure. But it's okay, I'll take care of it." He prepared the suture needle and tried not to tense up as he set the first stitch. Fifteen agonizing stitches later, he tied the last knot. Looking over to his quiet brother, he spoke. "Hey, sleepy. You need to take that ice off your head for awhile. You don't want to get frostbite on your brain bucket." No answer, but the hand and the towel slid limply to the mattress. Dean finished bandaging his wound and cleaned up the mess, then lay back with a heartfelt sigh. He couldn't go to sleep, because he would need to check on Sam periodically, but he really needed to close his eyes for a few minutes. His body was worn out and he wasn't sure he could **hold** out 'til morning. He would probably need to set the alarm to wake him and then wake Sam.

A soft fluttering sound jerked him back to full alertness and his eyes flew open, searching for its source. Castiel stood between the two beds looking very solemn and rumpled as usual.

Dean blinked and pulled himself up against the headboard. Trying to stifle a pained moan at the movement. His leg felt like it was on fire. He panted through the strain, **holding** his aching knee and then looked up at the angel. "Hey Cas. Can't do any favors for you right now. We're a little banged up at the moment from the last favor you asked us to do." Dean spat gruffly.

"Were you able to dispatch the demon?" He asked calmly, ignoring the caustic tone.

"We got it, no thanks to you." Dean snapped. Between the worry for Sam, the incessant pain in his leg and almost mind-numbing weariness, his ability to be understanding was stretched very thin.

"I am sorry I was not able to assist you. I was engaged elsewhere." Castiel replied softly, slumping down on the foot of Dean's bed.

Dean gave the angel a puzzled look at his uncharacteristic behavior. He seemed to be sort of pale and tired looking. And he never slumped. Dean wondered vaguely, why he always seemed to be the one that had to take up the slack. He rolled his eyes in defeat, asking tiredly. "Are you okay Cas? You look kind of sick or something."

Castiel sighed and then answered wearily. "I am hot and cold at the same time." He reached up a hand to rub his forehead. "My head aches." He moved his hand down to his throat. "And my throat is... scratchy?" He stared at Dean in bewilderment. "What is the matter with me?"

With eyes wide, Dean shrugged in bafflement. "Uh. You... might have a cold." He conceded. "But I didn't think angels ever got sick."

Hanging his head dejectedly, the angel murmured. "Ever since I rebelled, I have been experiencing things... things that I have never had to deal with before."

"Uh. Okay." Dean pulled the first aid kit back towards him and sorted through it, in search of something useful. _What did you give a sick angel anyway? _He held up a clear bottle of green liquid. "Sam swears by this stuff." He waggled the bottle in invitation. " You wanna try some cold medicine? It might help."

Looking at the bottle intently. Castiel nodded slowly.

Dean opened the bottle and measured out the dosage in the little cup and handed it to him, then recapped the bottle and put it back in the kit.

Pondering it for a moment, Castiel sipped it carefully, licking his lips when he finished. "That was pleasant."

Dean shuddered in revulsion. "Ugh! You liked it? I hate that nasty licorice tasting stuff."

Castiel smiled as he handed the small cup back and Dean put it on the night stand to wash later.

With a smirk for the strange acting angel, Dean turned away and spoke to Sam again. "Hey dude. You okay over there?"

Sam rolled his head toward his brother's voice and mumbled. "Don think, uh have ah 'cussion."

"Sorry, You still have a concussion. Put the ice back on your head."

Sam muttered something Dean couldn't understand but flopped the wet towel back onto his head. Dean saw that he would have to get some more ice and a drier towel soon.

Turning back to the very pitiful looking angel. Dean muttered. "Get some sleep Cas or rest or something." Then he closed his eyes again, ignoring everything for just a few minutes and wished so badly that he could go to sleep. He felt the bed shift as Castiel stood up. After a few minutes, bright flares of light began bursting behind Dean's closed lids. He pulled his arm across his face, wondering if he had hit his own head and not realized it. He heard Sammy moan. "Don feel suh good."

And then the horrible sounds of retching. Jack-knifing up, he was assaulted by brilliant incandescent lights, so bright that it felt like the beams were stabbing into his eyes. He squinted, trying to find the source of the strobing glare. Finally, he was able to make out a staggering angel across the room. Castiel was twirling in lopsided circles with outstretched arms **held **wide and seemed to be sporting a goofy grin. Dean closed his eyes in wonder and then opened them again, trying to come to grips with the vision before him. The source of the flashing lights were unbelievably, his wings. His normally very rarely seen, very dark-shadowed wings. They were arched crookedly out from his back and lit up like a broken neon sign. Blinking and flashing a rainbow of colors.

The swaying image combined with the strobe effect of the lights, caused a sudden onset of motion sickness and Dean was quickly grabbing for his own vomit catcher. Luckily the ice bucket was near to hand. He **held** it tight and heaved painfully, emptying his stomach. Then set it carefully on the floor, trying not to look directly at the wonky angel. "Sammy, ya okay over there? Please tell me you hit the trashcan and not the floor when you threw up." Dean pleaded, shading his eyes. from the steady pulsing light.

"Trsh can. Yep. Make hmm shtop Dean. He'z makin me sick with all the shwrlin." Sam whined weakly.

"Uh, Cas. what's going on? You think you could stop all the dancing and the light show?" Dean asked loudly, trying to get the loopy angel's attention.

Castiel stopped abruptly and the blinking slowed to a less frequent cadence. Listing to one side as though he were walking on a slant, he made his way to Dean's bed, slamming his knees into it when he reached it, he fell forward, landing with a bounce on his stomach. He let out a discordant giggle and raised up to fix sparkling blue eyes on Dean.

With a groan, Dean grabbed his throbbing knee and glared at the spaced-out angel. He took shallow breaths, working to keep the nausea at bay, not willing to vomit again. The smell alone, from he and Sam's puke buckets was almost more than he could stand already. Swallowing thickly, he aimed a squinty scowl at the floppy, beaming angel that was laid across his bed. "Cas. Are you drunk or something? What's with the wild wing thing?"

"I luv ya guys." He said slurrily, with a hiccup and giggled again. "I really, _Hic_, really do."

"For the love of Pete!" Dean growled. "You can drink twenty-proof whiskey, straight up, no problem, but give you a shot of cold medicine and you get sloppy drunk? And the disco wings? Seriously?" He tried to reign in his temper, but there was only so much trouble anybody could stand and Dean was pretty sure he had passed his limit a few hours ago.

Castiel propped his chin in his hands and folded his barely winking wings closer to his back and gave Dean a serious look. Which he couldn't quite pull off with the intermittent hiccups that kept erupting in annoying squeaks. "Yur right." He sniffed noisily, " _Hic_. I might be jrunk, _Hic_, but I still luv you lots Dee and Sham too, _Hic_, iss true. I jus don tell ya enuf. _Hic_, Ah keep it all inshide." Here he paused looking woebegone and a single tear traced down one flushed cheek. "_Hic."_

Dean looked heavenward in utter disbelief. "Come on!"

He heard Sam say softly. "We luv ya tooo Cash. Don be like Dee and **hold** it inshide." He sighed and continued. "Ya shou let yur feelins out."

Dean looked between the two slurring saps and covered his face in disgust. "You should both keep your touchy-feely mush to yourselves." He grumbled in irritation. "Or better yet, share amongst yourselves and leave me out of it. Geez! No more concussions for you Sammy and no more cold medicine for you Cas."

His demands were met with snorts and giggles and a few more squeaking hiccups. He uncovered his face and stared gloomily at the stained ceiling in tired resignation. It was going to be a long night.

**The End ~ Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Every review is like that little extra something that makes you smile for the rest of the day. ;0)**


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